A Working Mother

Demi pulled the sweatshirt over her head, over her naked breasts, and settled it around her waist with a twisting motion. Music from the bar thudded through the thin partition walls. Big Dave nodded in time to the beat, counting out bills in two piles on the dressing table in front of her, never even looking up. She knew the effect her body had on most men; she saw it every time she danced. But it was all business with Big Dave, he never took advantage like at some places. She knew she could trust him to count the tips up the right way. She scooped up a scrunchy from the pile in front of the long mirror and gathered her blonde hair together in a ponytail, studying her image critically in the glare of the makeup lights. She hated the coarse way she looked in the heavy stage makeup, but it was only a useful mask. She’d scrub it away when she got home. She didn’t want to waste any more time here. She longed to see Marquan again.

            “That’s two hundred and some after the house cut. Not bad for a weeknight.” Big Dave held out her share of the tips.

            She looked up from sending a text to Lucy Lou, telling her she was on the way. “Just go ahead and admit it, I’m one of the best you’ve got.” She winked at him and folded the bills into her bag. Relief made her happy. The lot rent was due tomorrow, plus she had to pay Lucy Lou for babysitting. “Walk me to the car?”

            Bluntsburg at three in the morning was dead, but she felt more alive than ever. The breeze through the rolled-down window washed the stink from the club away from her sweats. She still craved a cigarette after her shifts, but her resolve was firm. She and Marcus had both quit when they knew the baby was on the way. And she wasn’t always going to have to rely on dancing to make ends meet. Marcus had plans. She believed in him.  She turned off the highway. The air smelled sweeter out here in the county. She thought she could smell honeysuckle. She parked beside her single-wide. The trailer park was quiet tonight. Even the dogs were silent. There was a note from Marcus stuck in the screen door. She smiled as she read the clumsy tender misspelled words under the bare porch light bulb…

“Idiot,” she said laughing softly, “But hey! You’re my idiot.” She stuffed the note in her bag and walked two lots over to Lucy Lou’s.

                She went around to the back door and tapped softly. Lucy Lou would be listening for her at the kitchen table. She reached for the blanketed bundle that Lucy held out to her.

“How was he tonight?”

“Perfect little angel, as always. Good as gold. Been asleep ever since I gave him his last bottle.”

She walked back home, pulling the blanket back a little so she could see Marquan’s tiny face in the streetlights that lined the gravel drive. She still couldn’t figure out who he looked like more, her or Marcus. Either way, he was beautiful. He raised a fist and made little smacking noises without waking up. She lifted his cheek to hers and nuzzled him. His fingers touched her lips. “I’m here, sweetie. Mama’s home and everything’s okay.” A soft breeze carried the scent of baby powder to her. Above her, the black sky was dotted with blazing stars. She climbed the three cracked concrete steps and took her baby inside.